


Artist's Rendering

by auxanges



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Body Paint, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auxanges/pseuds/auxanges
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max laughs, and Chloe chides her to hold still, Mad Max, you’ll ruin my magnum opus, and yes I know what magnum opus means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artist's Rendering

**Author's Note:**

> ive been thinking about this for so long...........

It rains in Arcadia Bay sometimes. Gentle pattering against the glass panes of Chloe’s bedroom window provides white noise in the otherwise comfortable silence: nothing but tangled legs and lazy smiles, soft t-shirts and boyshorts.

And each other.

Max’s head is on Chloe’s chest, and she feels it vibrate when Chloe announces she’s bored. She rolls onto the taller girl, her chin on her hands. “Okay, then. What do you wanna do?”

Chloe puts on her best thinking face, scrunching up her nose. “Something…artsy.”

“I’m something artsy,” Max points out with a grin.

Chloe laughs and trails her hand along the small of Max’s back. “Good point. But I wanna try something different.”

“Different works.” Max leans forward to kiss her before sitting up, straddling Chloe’s hips. “Did you have anything in mind?”

The answer is immediate. “Painting.”

“Painting,” Max echoes, raising an eyebrow. “Chloe ‘kicked out of art school’ Price wants…to paint.”

It’s Chloe’s turn to grin. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m starting to question your delinquent image here.”

Chloe gives her a shove and Max rolls off with a giggle. “Very funny. Do you wanna paint or not?”

“I’m not a great artist…”

“Shit, me neither, Max. We have lots in common, we should hook up or something.”

Chloe’s up now, rummaging around in her drawers. Max rubs her eyes and watches her; the curve of her back, and the sun catching in her roots like her hair is woven through with gemstones. It doesn’t take long before Chloe triumphantly holds up a small wooden box like a trophy.

“Where did you even get those?”

“Jacked ‘em from Blackwell before I got the boot.” Chloe grabs a plastic mug covered in butterflies on it and tosses it to her with a wink. “Still think I’m no delinquent?”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Max teases as she heads for the bathroom to fill the mug with water. The mirror has six-year-old flower stickers tacked to a corner. Fading purple bruises line her collarbone and disappear under her shirt; Max’s reflection blushes.

Back in the room, Chloe is cross-legged on the bed, examining the paints. She looks up and smiles when Max raises the mug in greeting. “Come on down, Caulfield. You’re the next contestant on The Price Is Right!”

“Ew, how long have you been saving that line?”

“Five years, but that’s not important.” Chloe pats the mattress beside her. “Ready to rock ‘n’ roll?”

Max looks at the setup, at the array of colours and brushes arranged on the bed. “There’s no paper.”

“Don’t need it.”

Chloe leans back and pulls off her shirt: her tattoos come into full view, and Max has to resist tracing them with her outstretched fingers. She reaches back to unclasp her bra, and a second pair of hands finally ghost over hers. Their lips meet, and Max can taste the smile on Chloe’s mouth.

Her own shirt is off in no time, and Chloe’s lips wander over her bare skin before pulling away with a teasing grin. “I’ll go first. Lie on your stomach, pretty please.”

Max obliges; the sheets are cool against her exposed chest. She feels Chloe settle over her, the warmth of her hands spreading over her back as if finding the best place to draw out some sort of masterpiece. Above her head, the rain falls a little harder, the rhythmic taptaptap slow to reach her ears.

“What are you gonna paint?”

“Whatever I fuckin’ feel like. I’m not spoiling anything, nice try.”

Max laughs, and Chloe chides her to hold still, Mad Max, you’ll ruin my magnum opus, and yes I know what magnum opus means.

The paintbrush tickles when Chloe sets it on her skin, and Max has to hold her breath so she doesn’t laugh again. Chloe paints broad strokes, with the occasional softer lines around her shoulder blades and the small of her back. She hums under her breath as she works, and Max lets her eyes close despite herself. Every now and again, the coarse bristles of the brushes are replaced with Chloe’s gentle fingers.

A kiss on her shoulder rouses Max from her reverie. “All done. Wanna see?”

Max shakes her head. “Only after I’m done yours.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “The element of surprise. I like it.”

She settles on the bed, and Max rinses a brush in the mug, watching the water swirl a bright red. It makes her wonder what’s on her back, but she refuses to give Chloe Price the pleasure of winning their unspoken challenge.

There are four or five blues on the bed: bright like Chloe’s hair, dark like her eyes when Max’s head is between her legs and her fingers fist in the bedsheets. Max selects a few of them, and sets to work at the base of the other girl’s neck. Clouds appear over her skin, dark and light and dark again, a cyclone winds around her spine. Max collects raindrops from the outside world and etches them onto Chloe.

“Almost finished.”

Chloe sighs contentedly when Max moves to her lower back, flicking the brush just over her hipbones. She sits back a moment, pensive (and getting green paint on her cheek in the process), then dips a fresh brush in the red paint. A lighthouse takes shape along Chloe’s side.

“I think I’m done.”

“You think or you know?” Chloe’s voice has a teasing edge to it.

Max leans down and presses her lips to the other girl’s jaw. “One more second.” She reaches beside the bed for her bag and takes out the camera. Aim, click-click, and Chloe’s back is captured on film. Waving the print in the air, Max sits on the edge of the bed; she feels warmth on her neck as Chloe shifts behind her to look over her shoulder.

“Oh, wow.”

Chloe is a storm, roaring seas and thunderclouds over the expanse of her back. Grass and trees arch up from her waist up her side towards the lighthouse. Behind the clouds, light struggles to escape, casting golden glows stretching towards the rest of Chloe’s body.

Max turns to see Chloe’s mouth open, the corners of her lips turned up. “Does it look okay?”

“Okay?! Max, this is hella better than _okay_! I thought you said you couldn’t paint!” Chloe reaches for the picture, now covered in blue and orange prints around the edges. “Lemme show you yours, now.”

Max obediently turns and lets Chloe photograph her back. When the picture’s taken, Chloe sits with an arm loosely wrapped around her waist, and they wait as the colours slowly come to life.

“Chloe…”

Where Chloe is rough waters, Max is crystalline shores, awash in setting sunlight. Half her back is a gradient of yellows and oranges and pinks, with clouds the colour of Chloe’s eyes. Arcadia Bay is a paradise, a memory Max remembers like yesterday but hadn’t thought Chloe would.

Beside one another, they almost complete a bigger picture. “Did you do it on purpose?” Max asks.

“Do what?”

“Never mind.” Max laughs and shakes her head, twisting into Chloe’s embrace. “I love it.”

Their lips meet again, and soon the rest of their skin is covered in painted handprints: over chests and thighs, in their hair and along their necks. Their voices are coloured and mingle with the rain outside.

Max pins the photographs on Chloe’s wall, next to each other. “That was a fun idea.”

Chloe grins. “You’re always the one looking for subjects to capture. It’s a nice change.”

“I guess you’re right.” Max looks over her shoulder at the mess and groans. “We’re gonna have to clean all of this up…”

Chloe’s behind her in seconds, her chest pressed against the smaller girl’s back. “We’ll start with ourselves. The rest can wait.”

“You do realize we actually have to clean, this time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Last one to the shower is on laundry duty.”

“No fair, your legs are longer! Chloe!”

Their laughter continues long after the rain outside has stopped.


End file.
